“You sent it???”
Her fantasies had been shattered, and also the cachet of having an unknown admirer. How could he imagine that she, the homecoming queen, would be seen dead with him? Not exactly trailer-park trash, but close enough in her eyes, and those of her sniggering friends.
Her response had been brief and cutting.
Years later, across the desk, she wonders if he remembers her. Probably not.
“So I was hoping for a loan, say fifty thousand over ten years?” she says, hopefully.
Something stirs behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.
He remembers perfectly, it seems.
“So hell’s frozen over then?”
I should be able to do better with a cracking prompt like this, but once again I’m dashing off out, early doors, as we say over here. Great choice for a Friday Fictioneers photo, Rochelle, and many thanks to Liz Young for providing it.